


and I‘m so sad, like a good book I can‘t put this day back

by KayCeeCruz



Series: Love's Tender Refrain [3]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayCeeCruz/pseuds/KayCeeCruz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excerpts of Brian and Justin's life.</p><p>This is a ten part series inspired by this meme I saw floating around. The gist of it was: put your iTunes on shuffle, and write a drabble based on each of the first ten songs that play. Don’t linger when the song is over, this is an exercise. Though this series ranges in length from drabblish to ficlet to not so ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and I‘m so sad, like a good book I can‘t put this day back

_And I‘m so sad, like a good book I can‘t put this day back.  
(A Sorta Fairytale - Tori Amos)_

 

3.

 

There are days a person can never forget. Their first kiss, for instance. Or their first time. Or when they first fell in love. For him, those had all happened within hours of each other, so it made it easier to remember them.

And he did. Like it had happened to him just minutes before. That slow burn that he grew to understand as desire. That sharp ache that he later learned was need. That instant warmth that glowed from the inside that one day he’d know to call love.

Sometimes he’d tell Brian these things and he’d received a sigh. Or roll of eyes.

And then sometimes…he’d find arms tight around him. Kisses on his cheek and hair. The smallest caress on skin warmed from touch and comfort.

Then, there were those days he couldn’t ever have. One long moment that he knew, inside his heart which did remember, had changed his life. Even before being made to forget, even before wood met skull, his life had taken a turn.

He just would never know exactly how.

He would never remember bright eyes shining with something new. Discovering the thrill of floating in the air on the truth of what they were…what they could have been…what they would become. Promises made in the space of a dance floor. Unsaid but felt. Seen but not understood.

Those feelings of belonging finally, of having within his grasp some semblance of reality within the fantasy they were creating, would never be his to know. They would take years of heartache and pain. Of wounds and broken words. Of love and hate to ever reach their potential.

And even then he wouldn’t recognize it as the same.

Because he didn’t’ know, didn’t remember what it looked like.

When he said these things out loud, he’d find a hand stroke his back, up to his neck and thread itself in his hair. It would softly caress the silent scar that lay there and then quietly, he’d hear the words.

“Sometimes it’s better not to know what we are missing.”

Maybe that was true.

And he knew that he would give up _almost_ anything just to find it out if it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback loved and appreciated. Leave here or at [LJ](http://freakykat.livejournal.com/155405.html?mode=reply#add_comment).


End file.
